


Mortal

by fallenprotector



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Lactation, M/M, Milking, Nipple Play, how the hell do you tag stepping on someones dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenprotector/pseuds/fallenprotector
Summary: Would that he could strike the Creator down and make them beg for his mercy, force them to unmake this flesh... no, not now.Not yet.





	Mortal

**Author's Note:**

> light warning for dysphoria in the beginning... sorry tails if this looks dysphoric to the viewers. kinda bled into into lucilius' characterization. imo itd be interesting if his view of bodies as disposable and experimental was in part motivated by his own self-hatred so make of that what u will  
> also these characters are both terrible, terrible people. so please don't try any of this at home  
> everything here is 100% consensual but it's a lil unsettling by virtue of who they are so please read with caution, i love you and want no harm to come to you  
> i literally feel like i need to go take a shower so im gonna do that,
> 
> also catch me on twitter @fallenprotect0r

“You called, Master?”

“I believe I’ve told you not to call me that, Belial.” Unamused, Lucilius turns to face the bookshelves behind him, thumbing through the tattered pages of a worn tome. “Yes, however. I did.”

The only connection between the Astral Laboratory and the skies beyond the Crimson Horizon is this library, curated by Lucilius himself. Often he comes here to read, to reconvene with the knowledge handed down to him by the stars. Astrals are the makers of this world; they know how to do and undo all things under their jurisdiction, as it should be. They bear the burden of knowledge in one hand and resolution in the other, golden scales that hang far above the skies.

And thus, tonight’s meeting is simply another problem Lucilius has set out to solve, with every tool and resource at his disposal.

Belial curls his wings inward and snaps his fingers. They vanish in a cloud of darkness. “You’re no fun, Cilius… but what I can do ya for?”

Closing his book, Lucilius exhales. “I have a task that I believe you are most suited for.”

“Oho. I’m listening.”

“Close the door.”

Lucilius’ lip curls slightly as Belial’s split into a sly grin. With a sharp nod of his head, the door slams shut on the other side of the room.

Belial steps closer, his heels clicking cold against the marble floor. “The anticipation is killing me, Cili. What’s got you so bothered?” He coos, standing in front of him now. “How I _ache_ when I catch you in a bad mood...”

“Spare me your lip, Belial.”

“I could spare you two,” he chuckles, “if you just say the word.”

“Mm. Then you’re in luck.” Lucilius closes his eyes, slowly drawing his cloak away from his shoulders. “But you’ll speak of this to no one.”

Blinking, Belial’s smirk fades. For a moment, his expression takes on a strange vacancy. “Hold up -- you serious? You’re letting me--”

“This body requires maintenance, on occasion.” Interrupting sharply, Lucilius exposes his chest. He winces slightly, his soreness accentuated by the cool, dusty air of the library. Would that he could strike the Creator down and make them beg for his mercy, force them to unmake this flesh... no, not now.

Not yet.

“I will humor your needs if you humor mine, Belial. That is all.”

A quiet, contented hiss. Belial’s smile returns crooked as ever while his greedy eyes drink in the sight of Lucilius’ breasts, nipples red and swollen, just begging for a good suck. He holds a hand to his chin. “You have my attention.”

“Then take care of it.”

“With pleasure.”

Warm lamplight bears down on them in the vast chamber lined with impossibly tall mahogany shelves; only the books can hear them now, tucking Belial’s reverent sigh away between weathered pages. “I could worship these breasts, y’know... so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against Lucilius’ collarbone. “But you know that, don’t you?”

Lucilius closes his eyes, choosing not to dignify the question with a response. Before long he finds himself stifling a gasp -- Belial’s tongue traces his left nipple in warm, steady circles. The promise of relief, the way his mouth soothes the aching, it’s enough to bring Lucilius’ hand to the back of Belial’s head, holding him in place. “Don’t take long.”

Spurred on by the encouragement, Belial withdraws his tongue and begins sucking.

The relief is instant as warm, rich milk floods his willing assistant’s mouth. Lucilius rewards him, stroking the back of his neck. “Very good,” he murmurs, “you’re doing well, Belial.”

If there’s anything Lucilius knows well, it’s how to maximize the potential of his tools -- Belial, so depraved, so starved, made to be a bottomless pit of greed and lust, all he needs is the bare minimum encouragement to be useful. As he sucks harder he grasps Lucilius’ back, holding him firmly in place and within reach for easy access. It’s not too unpleasant; all it would take is a simple slap on the wrist for him to let go. The warmth of his palms alleviates the aching almost as much as his lips, hard at work. Lucilius watches in morbid fascination as Belial’s movements hasten, listens to every strained, desperate moan choked down by mouthful after mouthful of milk.

Belial scarcely stops to breathe, swallowing as much as he can take in noisy gulps (no doubt accentuated on purpose). Charming that he thinks he can sway Lucilius, thinks he can hold something over the god of all that he is. It brings a placid smile to his lips. “Do try not to choke.”

As if on cue, Belial hiccups. His lips release the tender, bruised nipple with a wet pop; he licks it over a few more times, squeezing the whole breast just to be sure it’s spent. Lucilius closes his eyes and gives a quiet sigh, relishing the pressure.

“You’re really spoiling me today, Cili.” Gasping, Belial wheezes. He massages Lucilius’ chest lovingly, rolling and kneading it between his fingers. “Dunno what I did… but I’ll gladly do it again for another go at these tits.”

“Oh, you’re not done.” Lucilius guides Belial by the cheek to his left side, yet untouched. “Drink from me as you were starved,” he whispers in his ear. “I have laid myself bare for you to take.”

Belial barely lets a whine escape him before latching onto that left nipple fiercely, kissing and licking it as it starts to leak sweet, mouthwatering nectar -- once the stream flows, he starts sucking as if it might save him, might pull him far above the Crimson Horizon and make him holy. His frantic breaths grow faster, forced through his nose. Lucilius closes his eyes and tilts his head skyward. Pleasure is not something he needs, nor something he would recreationally indulge in... yet, undeniably…

“Mm,” Lucilius offers him a single sound of satisfaction. “More, Belial… go on. You know your place.” He exhales, shuddering. “Drain my well dry, and leave me barren-- ngh!”

Like a cat that got the cream -- that’s the mortal expression, isn’t it? The only one that suits how flushed Belial’s face is, how desperately his broad, steady palms grasp at Lucilius’ back as if he could pull him deeper into his mouth. Faster the milk flows out of Lucilius’ breast, the sensation gripping him in waves of trembling, suffocating ecstasy. Belial’s lips, so hot, wet, so greedy as they suck and suck in vigorous, quick rhythm, it’s maddening enough that Lucilius’ guard is struck down and he moans, uncertain if Belial can hear him over the sound of the blood undoubtedly pounding in his ears. He takes and takes and takes and sucks and yes, please, more, please undo this flesh this aching this--

 _“Oh!”_ Lucilius’ eyes widen as his body is wracked with a tense shudder, clenching and unclenching as pleasure blinds him. He gasps, tilting his head back down and feeling his bones go limp with an exhaustion completely foreign to him.

What… what did…?

“Ahaha… ah,” Belial finally pulls away, kissing both sore, contented nipples in front of him. He gives each a quick suckle, just to be sure he’s finished. “Mm, Cilius, say… was that the first time you’ve come?”

Despite the teasing in his tone, Belial’s body still quivers. Lucilius inhales, clearing his throat. He shoves a palm against Belial’s face. “I much prefer when you don’t speak.”

“Mmph.”

“You may go, now. Thank you for your assistance.” Stepping back, Lucilius draws his robes, then his cloak over his chest. “If this happens again, in the future… I will keep our arrangement in mind.”

Swallowing hard, Belial nods. He sighs heavily and leans against a pillar nearby, pouting. “So…  we’re through?”

“Yes.” Lucilius turns away, opening a book on his desk.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

Palming a hand over his concealed cock, Belial sighs, sporting a tired grin. “Alright. I’m not one to be ungrateful.” He staggers off to the door, giving a wave over one shoulder. “Anytime, _Master_.”

The book in Lucilius’ hand slams shut, echoing across the chamber. “Get back here.”

“Oh? But I thought you were done with me for now-- hnghk!”

Whirling around, Lucilius thrusts his palm forward with a flourish, then clenches it shut. Yanked by invisible threads, Belial flies forward and hits the marble floor on his knees. He barks out strained laughter, hissing as the pain begins to throb. “Ohoho, you know I like it rough-- agh!”

Lucilius grasps a fistful of Belial’s hair and presses a heel between legs. He looks down at the shaking form of his creation amusedly, a faint smile on his lips as he grinds his shoe harder up and down.

“Come, Belial.”

All it takes is a few hard rubs before Belial’s hips jerk forward into Lucilius’ rhythm. He strains his cock against him, reaching out both hands to grasp his ankle but ah-ah, Lucilius is quick -- he waves a hand, and Belial’s wrists fly backward over his head, bound together by nothingness.

“Tsk. I gave you no permission to touch me.” Lucilius laughs sweetly. “Only like this.”

“Ohh, you’re so terrible… nngh!” Belial’s eyes close tight, open, roll back as he arches his spine to put more weight in his hips, gasping. “Ahahaha, more! _More!_ Fuck me harder!”

At this point, Lucilius hardly moves -- applying a steady amount of pressure, he watches in fascination as Belial drives himself mad. His thighs tremble, his arms quake, his chest heaves, his face flares up red as he thrusts and thrusts until finally, finally he comes undone with a rasping scream.

“... thank you.” Lucilius chuckles, stepping back. “This has been very informative.” He strides casually to his desk, picking up a quill and beginning to write in the book he closed just moments ago. He waves two fingers, and Belial’s arms come loose. With a shuddering exhale, he collapses onto the marble floor, clutching his sides and giggling deliriously.

“Mm, wow… man. Am I glad I didn’t just ask Bubs if he’d beat me off.” Belial rolls over and onto his knees, catching his breath until he can stand. “I’m soaked. I think I’ll hit the shower… thanks, Cilius. Hope that makes one steamy research paper for ya.”

“Good night, Belial.”

As Belial stumbles out of the library, Lucilius continues writing.

_My hypothesis was correct: base, mortal pleasures are not for us to partake in._

**Author's Note:**

> peppermints??? peppermints anyone??? https://twitter.com/wagatomo_gb/status/971049592404942848  
> there's a lot to unpack here  
> in a way, i guess i'd call this venting fic  
> and .. the return of puscifer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APV2G-kxlA0


End file.
